find us. We’ve hardly seen any of the neighbors around here,” Cole said. “We could hunker down for a day or two.”
“What about that Joan chick?” Deese asked. Joan was the agent who rented them the houses.
“She’s only seen me and Cole,” Cox said. “Her husband’s a poker dealer here in town. Even if she suspected something, they’re the kind of people who know when they should be looking the other way.”
Cole bobbed his head. “Okay. We take the risk.” He looked at his watch. “We’ll go at nine. I’m going to watch the news, see if we’re on it.”
“I’m going to call back to New Orleans, see if I can figure out what the fuck is going on,” Deese said.
“Another risk, the cops are all over the phones now,” Cole said.
“The phone’s clean, a throwaway,” Deese said. “And I need to know.”
* * *
—
DEESE WENT into the back bedroom to make the call and Cole and Cox drifted down the hallway to stand outside the door and listen, which they could easily do because Deese spent most of his time shouting.
The call went to a burner phone owned by a man named Larry Buck, who handed the phone to Roger Smith, who was standing next to him, because Buck was always standing next to him when Smith was out on the town. They didn’t use names on the phone.
“It’s the goddamn truth and you know it! You must have talked to that motherfucker. He wouldn’t walk around the block without checking with you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, man. I don’t. I haven’t heard a word. I sent him there with four boxes of money. Six hundred K. He must’ve decided to keep it, unless . . . Hey, ask that chick, whatever her name is, who pulled the gun first? I don’t think our guy would, he was just a deliveryman, he only had a gun because he was carrying all that cash, he’s not a shooter.”
“Don’t tell me that, you motherfucker, you sent that fuckin’ island beaner after my ass and he killed my brother. When I get my hands on him, I’m gonna eat his fuckin’ liver with fava beans and Ritz crackers. You got that? You tell him that. Then I’m gonna come after your liver, you pasty-white, lying piece of faggot shit.”
“Listen, listen, I’ll try to get in touch, find out what happened,” Smith finally shouted back. “If he didn’t leave the money behind, then he’s still got it and you still need it, right? Him giving you the money would prove that I’m telling the truth, right? I wouldn’t have sent the money at all, if he was coming there to shoot you, for Christ’s sakes.”
“You get me that money, I’ll think about it,” Deese said. “I’m still gonna eat his liver, but get me the money, I’ll let you keep yours.”
* * *
—
WHEN THEY WERE DONE, Deese walked out of the bedroom and found Cox and Cole, leaning against the wall, advertising the fact that they’d been listening.
“We’re not going after any money with you,” Cole said. “If you go after that money, they’ll kill your ass. That’s nothing but a setup.”
“Those fuckers,” Deeds said. He had the burner phone in his hand and threw it at a couch. It bounced once and fell on the floor. “If it ain’t a setup, it’d sure be some easy cash. It’d be the way to go. Better than Harrelson.”
“Would you give us some of it?” Cox asked.
“Depends how nice you are to me,” Deese said to her, giving her his nicotine sneer.
“Oh, fuck that,” Cox said.
Cole said, “Geenie and I have developed a relationship, so you’re not getting . . .” He tried to think of an appropriate word and wound up with “any.”
Deese shook his head. “I’m in Vegas and I’m not getting any. How does that happen? If I—”
“Shut up,” Cole said, in not quite a shout. “Get back on track. If you go after that money . . . Like I said, it’s a setup. You go out there alone, they’re gonna kill you.”
“What would you do about it?” Deese cocked his eyebrows at Cole and Cox. And with his funny squashed nose and rim of sharp teeth, he looked exactly like a giant weasel, Cox thought.
“If nothing else, we could be lookouts,” Cole said. “I’d go that far, if you’d kick us out . . . fifty.”